Pulling The Puzzle Apart
by feelsforbreakfast
Summary: Louis does this sometimes, he gets afraid and forgets how to love for a little while. He always comes back. A little bit of hurt/comfort fic, because there's a reason we ship this stupid couple.


The thing about the tweets is that they don't even surprise him. There's no disbelief when he reads the words, no moment where he wonders what conspiracy theories Louis could possibly be talking about, just a cold stone sunk in his stomach like _oh. Yes. He's afraid to love me again_.

He's at the grocery store, a carton of orange juice and a bag of lunch meat in his basket when the first tweet comes in. He's just a popstar checking his phone. He's just a popstar in the aisle of some crap grocery store with a beanie pulled low on his forehead and sunglasses low on his eyes and he's just checking his phone.

He's Harry Styles and a small part of him feels a little bit less alive.

While his first thought is for himself, his second is for the girls. They've got a fond place in his heart, though part of him knows that maybe if they weren't so quick witted and obsessive he might actually have a chance at something resembling a normal relationship. He knows this is going to kill them.

They're a little bit crazy, he'll give them that, but there are some days when he doesn't know what he'd do without the knowledge that all over the world there are fans that believe in his relationship sometimes more than he believes in it himself. Maybe Louis was the first one to tweet bravery, but he sometimes thinks they're the brave ones.

He taps until he's reached tumblr, scrolling slowly down his tag. He's debated making himself an account, one no one would know he had, but its probably better this way. It's then that he sees the other tweet, screencapped and sitting there like its waiting for him.

_"Larry is the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard"_

"Oh." It escapes his lips before he thinks about it, followed shortly by an internal monologue of _but why would you say something like that_. He doesn't cry, doesn't even think about crying, just tucks his phone back into his pocket and walks out with his orange juice and lunchmeat.

He doesn't quite know where he's going until he gets to Nick's flat, the plastic basket still clutched in his fingers. He rings the doorbell with an angry jab because sometime between the store and getting here he's gotten angry. He can feel his phone buzzing softly with each new alert but he's ignoring them because he doesn't want to see what Louis has ruined now.

His fingers find the doorbell again, pushing insistently as he stares down at his shoes. He hears footsteps from inside and Nick's voice echoing down the hall before the door swings open.

"Harry, nice surprise this-" He stops, gauging Harry's expression. He imagines he must look a bit like a punctured balloon, deflated and a little bit broken beyond repair. It's certainly how he feels. The anger is fading nearly as fast as it appeared, quickly replaced by a low hopelessness that drags his body right into the ground. "I think they generally want you to put the basket back before you leave, love."

Harry looks down at his occupied hand, seeming moderately surprised to see what he's carrying. "Don't think I paid for any of it."

Nick smiles that fond smile of his, tugging Harry into the apartment and setting his pilfered basket onto the carpet. "Is this a cup of tea problem or a couch cuddle problem?"

Harry drifts over to the couch by way of answering, curling into a ball in the corner, wrapping up into himself. He doesn't have the energy to be angry at Louis anymore. Its too hard, especially when he loves him so much.

Nick takes it in stride, moving to sit on the couch and tugging Harry into his arms, carding a soft hand through his curls. "It's okay, Love. You're okay."

"Tellie?" Harry asks in response, poking a toe out at the remote.

Nick nods, squirming out from underneath the curly haired boy to press the tiny red power button, his hand smoothing circles against Harry's back.

xx

It's later when Nick finally breaks down and asks him what's wrong. "Harry, you're going to have to talk to me."

Harry doesn't move for a second, then slowly reaches for his phone, heading back to Louis' twitter, already dreading what he's going to find there. Honestly, he knows its not as bad as it could be, but as he's reading, no worse alternatives are really coming to mind. He knows exactly what its like, how much it hurts to be vilified for who you are, and this strikes just a little bit too close to home. You can never have a REAL relationship if you're gay. Your love isn't REAL love. That's the real bullshit.

He shows the screen to Nick, letting him read down Louis' profile, then showing him what he sent to the girl. There's more on her page than before, quick blurbs, broken cries for help. He can feel a low stab of anger is his gut. No one should do that to anyone, not matter how scared Louis Tomlinson is.

"Wow." There's a long silence where Nick doesn't say anything more, just stares at the screen before setting the phone down on the coffee table. "That's fucked, Haz."

"I know." Harry buries his face briefly in Nick's flannel. "I just wish we didn't have to hide."

"It's not forever." Then, as an afterthought: "Do you want to stay here tonight?" It's happened before, Harry making camp on Nick's couch while Louis goes through one of his monthly freakouts, and Harry knows its probably going to happen again.

He's about to answer when he hears his ringtone, the soft beginning of Sweet Disposition that means that a certain blue eyed boy is on the other end of the line.

"You going to pick it up?"

Harry shakes his head, wishing suddenly that he'd picked a different song as _won't stop until its over, wont stop to surrender_ plays out of tinny speakers. Some part of him thinks he's already surrendered, that they won a long time ago.

"He's just scared, Haz. You know Louis."

Harry nods, blinking back frustrated tears. "He doesn't have to be. I don't know why he can't just love me."

Nick rests his chin on the top of Harry's head. "Because love isn't supposed to be easy. That's how you know its love."

His phone starts buzzing again, two text alerts in quick succession. "He's realized he's fucked up now." Harry says, looking down at the screen where _Boo Bear_ is lit up in white letters, that picture of them from the VMAs underneath. He'd almost kissed him on that stage. It's wouldn't be the first time.

It's such a fragile deception when he actually thinks about it, and he wonders why they even bother to hide it at all. Sometimes he feels like he's yelling the truth at the top of his lungs, in tiny touches and lingering eyes and he wonders how anyone could possibly still not know. "I should go back."

"Make him wait a little bit."

"I don't want to hurt him."

Nick kisses him affectionately on the head. "Let him have a think about what he's done."

xx

Louis calls three more times and sends four more texts before Harry shows up at the door to their flat at three in the morning, feeling like maybe he was wrong when he hoped that Louis would need him tonight. How many times can you say sorry to someone before the word starts to lose its meaning? How many times can your heart break before you forget how to get it back together again?

Louis is sitting on the floor of the kitchen when Harry finds him, a cup of lukewarm tea in his hands like he made it but forgot to drink it, the teabag a soggy lump next to his foot. He's hunched over, his head jerking up when Harry walks in. He looks a mess, his hair bedraggled, tee shirt dirty and face drawn.

For a moment, Harry thinks he isn't going to say anything, but a low _hey_ escapes his lips, eyes finding the floor likes he's really truly ashamed.

"You know that Larry isn't just us fucking." Harry begins quietly, standing in the doorway. "It's us. It just means us."

Louis starts to say something, a sharp pain in his eyes, but Harry cuts him off. "I don't think what we have is bullshit, Lou. It's not bullshit to me and I'm sorry it was bullshit to you."

Louis shakes his head. "You know I don't feel that way."

Harry shrugs. "Not really. I don't know that. All of our fake fans don't know that." Harry pushes through the sadness the seems to seep out of Louis' bones, pooling on the floor and trying to swallow both of them in its dark blue embrace. "You know how awful everyone is to them? They're the only ones who believe in this stupid fucking relationship and all anyone does is tell them that they're crazy. Maybe they are crazy. Maybe I was imagining it too, making something out of the fact that I thought you might love me."

Louis shakes his head. "I'm sorry." He takes a deep breath, like he's pulling himself back together. "I'm sorry I can't hold your hand in public, that I can't wear my own love is equal shirt or get I Can't Change tattooed on my fucking arm, but that doesn't mean I don't love you."

"Well saying that the last two years are bullshit isn't a very good way to do it either." Harry bites back, but there's no real anger there, just the resigned exhaustion of an argument that's been repeated too many times.

Louis shakes his head. "You know it wouldn't bother me if I didn't care about you. Its just scary for me. It's scary loving you because I don't want to hurt you or the band or anyone." He looks down at the ground. "I guess in some fucked up way I'm doing this because I do care. I'm scared out of my mind because I care about you and about us more than anything the world."

Harry nods, because he really does know. Louis can't show the world who he is just as much as Harry can't hide it, because Harry keeps his heart on his sleeve but Louis has always kept his tethered deep inside his chest where no one can get to it.

Louis holds out a hand, beckoning Harry down. "Sit."

Harry does, sinking to the floor and crawling into Louis' embrace.

"I'm so sorry." He murmurs against Harry's ear, squeezing him tight against his chest. "We're not going to have to hide forever and then they'll all the know the truth."

Harry nuzzles deep against his collar bone. "I just want them to be okay. I want us to be okay."

Louis shakes his head. "We're always okay, Harry, we're always going to be okay."

It's moments like this when he can almost believe it.


End file.
